


Contingency Plans

by RiaTheDreamer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: Simmons goes against protocol and, strangely enough, Grif isn't happy about.“I don’t think letting you die would improve our relationship.”





	Contingency Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_taller_tale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/gifts).



Simmons folded his hands on top of the hospital sheet. He had prepared himself to be angry, or annoyed at least, but his expression faltered into a frown the moment Grif actually appeared in the doorway.

Grif, on the other hand, looked absolutely pissed as he entered the room. The last time the Hawaiian’s face expressed such raw emotions had been back in Valhalla when Simmons had brought up the possibility of Kai _maybe_ being… well, dead.

Most of their conversations ended in arguments but not like that _argument_. Not the kinda arguments where one of them would storm off with a dark expression.

Simmons supposed that if any one of them had the right to be pissed at the moment, it should be Simmons. After all he was the one who was lucky. At least, that was how Doctor Grey described it. But he had made it, even if it had required a major surgery to get the bullets out of both his metal and his squishy body parts.

Donut had been sitting by his bedside the moment he woke up, telling Simmons not to worry since Donut had quite the experience when it came to sore holes. Since Simmons’ mind had been drugged on painkillers it had taken him some time before he had realized the pink soldier had been talking about the bullet wounds.

Sarge had paid him a visit as well, huffing about how it was all Grif’s fault as always. Simmons could not really argue with him this time, not really. The Blues had been by his room too, but not before Jensen had showed up with a big bunch of flowers and the wishes for him to _ash shoon ash posshible_.

Then Matthews and Bitters had showed up. The private had been teary-eyed, thanking him over and over until Simmons had begun to understand why Grif found Matthews’ presence tiring. Bitters had been staring at the wall as he handed him a snackbar and thanked the Captain for “well, you know”, as the Lieutenant had put it.

And Simmons had understood.

While his memory was still fuzzy when it came to what had happened after he had been shot, the events leading up to his choice were still clear in his mind.

In a fearful moment he had even asked Donut with his hoarse voice where Grif was, and the pink soldier had hesitated for just a second – but enough for Simmons’ heart to beat faster and for the heart monitor to reveal it – before telling him that Grif was just napping.

It was a long nap, apparently, since it had lasted for days at this point. It had been Tucker who had calmed down the cyborg’s fear and explained that Grif was fine but had been sulking in the corner of the HQ ever since Doctor Grey had left the surgery room and told them Simmons would be fine, even if he might have to go to the mechanist later to get the dents on his metal parts straightened out.

But now, days after Simmons had expected him to be there, Grif finally showed up. His arms were crossed, and his furious eyes were set on Simmons who refused to gulp.

Even though there was an empty chair right next to Simmons’ bed, Grif remained standing. “You’re a dick.”

“I know?” Simmons reply came out unsure since Grif’s statement was lacking any trace of humor and it did not feel like their usual Dick/Richard-mockeries. “But you’re the asshole. Is this your way of thanking me? At least Bitters brought a gift.”

Grif ignored that comment. “So did Sarge chew you out yet?”

Simmons frowned. While the Red leader had not exactly praised him out loud for saving Grif’s life, he had instead chosen to view the whole thing as Simmons stepping in to save Matthews and Bitters which was something much more acceptable. “Why would Sarge-“

Grif did not let him finish but cut him off sharply, “Duh, ‘cause you went against protocol?” His expression had softened a tiny bit; going from pissed off to an annoyed frown.

Blinking in confusion, Simmons stuttered, “Me? I wouldn’t-“

Once again, Grif decided not to let him complete his explanation. The Hawaiian’s eyes had narrowed in the same way he would look at someone who dared to steal his food (mostly Bitters, but Simons had tried his luck at times, just to annoy his teammate). “Simmons, what do Red Team contingency plans always involve? Besides failure?”

The question was unexpected and caused Simmons to frown. “Uhm, a pinch of insanity? Usually a shotgun? Sometimes a steamroller?”

“Me getting shot,” Grif answered his own question without missing a beat. He was still staring at Simmons in a way that made him want to crawl under the white sheet in order to avoid it.

“Oh.” Simmons could not deny the truth in that answer. But those were Sarge’s plan; they usually included Grif getting shot in some way, contingency or not.

And, finally, Grif cut to the chase, “So why the fuck did you mess with the system?!”

“Because you always bitch about getting shot?” Grif was usually praise him for going against the rules; to see him furious about it was confusing.

Simmons tried to sit up in his bed, keeping one hand on his bandaged torso. “Grif, did you-“ While Grey had patched him up with her incredible skills, he was still sore and not supposed to leave the bed until at least two days from now. The movement caused him to winch in pain, and Grif’s expression softened further at the sight. But now Simmons was wearing the annoyed frown since he had finally figured out what Grif’s problem was. “If you’re just going to yell at me just take Bitters’ snack bar and get it over with.”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one, Simmons. What the hell were you thinking?”

Simmons met Grif’s glare without flinching. Despite the painkillers his mind was still perfectly capable of recalling their mission that had ended with him getting shot a bunch. “You were pinned down, Grif. I heard you talking to Kimball on the radio.” It was an idiotic choice on Grif’s behalf; he could have called Simmons for help, knowing Red Squad was in the area as well. But of course the idiot had tried to keep him out of it.

Well, Simmons had ended up interfering whether Grif had liked it or not.

“So?” Grif snorted dryly. “I didn’t ask to run in, flailing your arms around and insulting their mothers until you end up as a fucking Swiss cheese.”

Simmons had to object at that. “I didn’t insult their mothers – that would be…”

“Whatever.” He waved him off before turning away slightly so he was staring at the wall rather than Simmons. “Don’t do it again.”

Simmons was not sure what he had expected from Grif when he saw him again. Honestly, he had not even been sure if he was going to see Gif again. Maybe that was why he had hoped for a better mood than this. “You suck at being grateful.”

“Nobody thanks me when I do stupid shit,” the Hawaiian retorted quickly. “They yell at me. Why the fuck should I be thanking you?”

“ _Because_ I saved your life, Grif.” He made sure to keep his voice stern and steady as he finally said it out loud. Now the cyborg was crossing his arms, careful not to put pressure on the bandages underneath the sheet. “Most people would consider that something to be grateful for.”

“I don’t.” Grif hesitated for a moment before staring at him again to add, “There are other ways to show you give shit, Simmons.”

Simmons was aware that Grif would have been the one to cause the distraction had Simmons not shown up in time. As much as the orange soldier liked to hide it, he cared for his men in Gold Team. He would have told Matthews and Bitters to run, even though they might have protested.

Pulling himself out of those thoughts, Simmons reminded himself that Grif had not died and, amazingly, neither had Simmons. He straightened out his back as much as the wound would allow it. “I don’t think letting you die would improve our relationship.”

“I don’t know.” Grif shrugged. “People usually save all the nice stuff ‘till you’re dead. And you like writing speeches. You’d made the whole room cry. Well, Matthews at least. Donut too.”

“I’m not going to write your fucking funeral speech, Grif.” His voice did not crack as he said the sentence out loud, and Simmons was almost impressed with himself.

Grif frowned again before looking away. “Just follow the contingency plans the next time,” he grumbled. “Fucking Plan 07 or 11.”

Despite the situation, Simmons allowed himself to smile slightly. “Where the fuck was I going to find a steamroller?”

It earned an amused snort from Grif before he turned weirdly serious again, “Just saying – I’m the one who’s supposed to get shot. That’s the system; don’t mess with it.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to be a maverick.” That came out too weak to ever work as an excuse. Not that anyone would have believed him anyways but no one could blame him for trying. Simmons lowered his glance to see his human hand play with the edge of the blanket. Slowly, he admitted, “Or, maybe I thought you shouldn’t get shot for a change.”

Grif sighed heavily, closing his eyes. Then he seemed to have run out of anger and he let himself drop down heavily into the chair next to Simmons’ bed. It creaked loudly under the sudden weight. “For fuck’s sake, Simmons.” Now up-close and with no trace of anger left, Grif’s expression looked just tired. The bags under his eyes reminded him of Wash’. “So you thought what? This was the time to be _The Hero in Maroon_? Or whatever you call yourself.”

Simmons wanted to turn pale at thought of Grif reading his old stupid story but his cheeks betrayed him and blushed instead. “Did you hack my computer?”

“You thought I was _not_ going to read that? ‘cause I totally did.” For the first time since entering the room, Grif was finally grinning; a smug smile that reached his eyes and warned Simmons of more teasing comments in the future. “You’ve lost the right to mock Donut’s _Harry Potter_ fanfiction by the way.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero,” Simmons said in a voice that went against his words. He cleared his throat, pausing, and lifted his head to meet Grif’s eyes. “I just figured it would be worth it. In the end.”

“Christ, are you asking for a fucking reward?”

And once again Grif did not give Simmons the time to answer. He leaned forward to smack his lips against Simmons, and the kiss was raw and full of longing, and when they both pulled back the overwhelming relief filled the hospital room.

For the first time since hearing Grif’s desperate call on the radio, Simmons felt like he could breathe with ease again. And Grif looked like he felt the same way.

“There are other ways to earn yourself a kiss, Simmons.” Grif fell back in the chair, leaning backwards to find a comfortable position. With either the exhaustion or the relief crawling up on him, he closed his eyes. He did not look like he was going to move for a while, and the cyborg had no problems with that.

“I know,” Simmons replied softly and did not regret his choice for a second.

**Author's Note:**

> Simmons’ fanfiction A Hero in Maroon can be found in the fan guide. It’s amazing.
> 
> But most importantly; Happy birthday, Taller!
> 
> It was time for a monthly one-shot and when I learned about your birthday I of course knew this was the perfect opportunity to gift a story! I also tried to turn it less angsty and more fluffy than first planned; I am not quite sure if I reached fluff-level but, well, there’s a kiss and no one died and that’s pretty good for my standards XD
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a great day!


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